Tsukiyomi Ikuto
by Venusphobia
Summary: When working for him, you'll need a few rules to help you survive the madness.  One-shot, but will probably turn into a two-shot.


FALALALA:  
>DO. NOT. READ. IF. YOU. LIKE. JUSTIN BIEBER. OR. REBECCA BLACK.<p>

Or, if you don't really mind a few insults, READ ON BBY ;D  
>(Don't worry, I'm not a hater of Jb. RB ... well thats another story.)<p>

WARNING: Swear words here and there, baby.  
>Under the age of fourteenthirteen?

I'm sorry. I have not written a censored version of this story yet. (ButIreallyshould.)

A/n: BAWHALALALA. Its been too long since I've done a first party sort of story ;\  
>I've decided that since I'm so fed up with stupid fanfiction and my stupid mouse that I'd go right ahead and write a stinking story that goes to level "M" or an amateur rated "R" That is probably not going to happen though because I'm just so coward and unable to handle adult-ready-scenes. Don't even ask what those are if you don't know.<p>

Anyways, I'd like to make an announcement for those who read my other story, Girl in Heels.  
>"I. AM. JUST. TAKING. ONE. DRAMAQUEEN. BREAK. FROM. THE. STORY."<br>Let me sulk and drown in self pity for a while.

x x x

I swear. There needs to be a guide book for working for Tsukiyomi Ikuto. Or at least a few rules. And since I'm one of the nicest people you'll ever meet, I'll be happily kind enough to supply you them within my life autobiography. Time skip through the other half of my life, and we're good to go. And now we begin.

_#1.) When Tsukiyomi Ikuto asks you to go get a snack/drink for him, you can not act like a bitch and tell him to fuck off, just cause' you're fed up with his lazy ass ordering your shit around._

"Amu, go get me my coffee mug from the table," He had said one morning with a lazy voice, even though the mug was just on the table next to him. Bastard. "And if there isn't any coffee left, go pour some in there. You know the way I like it." Like hell I did.

"Why in the world do I have to do that?" I asked, crossing my arms and glaring at him for all I was worth — and doing a pretty good job of it — when he all of a sudden just smirked and shook his head in that egomaniac way that I came to hate so much.

"You work for me, Hinamori." Why thank you, captain obvious. Its not like I didn't work for you and instead just came to your house everyday to help you with your daily life because I was just. So. Nice. "So get going, alright, strawberry?" I hated that sarcastic voice he would always use, and that sickening pet-name. How the hell did I look like some fruit that grew on a stinking bush? And no. Don't you dare go and use my hair as an excuse.

"Fuck you." I muttered under my breath, but because he was just so Garry Stu and all, he could hear me.

"When and where?" He shot back, grinning wickedly at my frustrated face.

I grabbed that motherfucking mug, dumped the stinking coffee on his pants, and stormed off to refill it.

_#2.) If he ever asks you to wear something that you don't want to, even a freaking maid costume, do it. Save yourself from the humiliation._

I had walked into the office in a simple black cardigan sweater over a white shirt, dark blue jeggings, and my favorite pair of knee high leather boots. The only jewelry I had donned that day was a pair of diamond stud earrings.

A perfectly fine outfit, you say? Even to go to a fancy restaurant? I agree.

Apparently not for Tsukiyomi Ikuto, who, if you wanted to know, always wore clingy suits that showed how lean he was. He had only taken one look at my outfit and snickered. Bastard couldn't get enough, could he? I would have decked him if he wasn't my boss.

"You're not going to wear_ that_ to Paris, are you?" He inquired, his finger poking at my sweater. I resisted the urge to chomp on that finger and listen to him scream like a little girl. No. I am not as sadistic as you think I am.

"Do you have a problem with what I'm wearing?" I asked, daring him to tell me what he so _hated_ about my outfit. He only stared at me, as if it was obvious. I gritted my teeth. "Well, I'm sorry that I'm not some spoiled bitch that earns a million dollars every month, wait no, screw that. Every damn second."

"Aw," He looked at me with forged sincerity. Thats right. I saw right through him. "Did the little Strawberry get butt-hurt over my opinion? I don't know whether to be flattered or to regret what I had said." I only snickered.

"Your opinion is worth the same as you. And do you know what you're worth? Shrimp poop, thats all you're worth." I spat out. Then I looked up and realized that this BASTARD wasn't even LISTENING to me. "Hey!"

He looked down at me and smirked.

"I thought my opinion and myself wasn't worth your time." He said, grinning. Stupid asshole. "Anyways, thats beside the point. The point is, I think you know why you can't wear that to Paris."

What the hell? I can't wear a stinking simple outfit to a screwed up v.i.p restaurant named Paris? (Which, by the way, I think doesn't make any sense since its in JAPAN.)

"Well, since you're so sure that I can't wear this to some retarded restaurant, why don't YOU tell me why I can't." I retorted. I'm still pretty sure that I had steam exploding from my ears.

"Okay," He said, smirking. And that, my friends, annoyed me to the point where I would have liked to get a rag and wipe that smug expression off his face. "If you really want to know."

"You may want to check the hole in the back of your pants," His smirk broadened. "Its pretty refreshing to see a twenty nine year old still wear frog panties."

Shit. ... Wait a second. How would he kno—

"YOU PERVERTED ASSHOLE, WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU DOING LOOKING AT MY ASS, YOU SHAMELESS BASTARD?"

_#3.) This may not sound like a rule...but... just a tiny warning? Embarrassing Tsukiyomi Ikuto never ends well._

"Good morning, Amu." It was the first time I had joined Ikuto in a meeting, although it was a pointless one since all their problems had been sorted out and everyone just wanted to get over the pointless crap. "Is there anything you'd like to add to today's meeting?" The smile he was wearing was his Make-The-Angels-Fall one, the clichéd but loved one. I didn't even want to know who the hell he wanted to impress.

I was a stupid girl back then, I'm guessing.

"Yes," I had said, somewhat sour because of what he had made me do in the morning that day. "But its just a question."

The brat only leaned forward and smiled at me encouragingly. So did everyone else. They looked like I was going to tell them some gossip story starring Rima and Nagi. I batted my eye lashes innocently at Ikuto.

"So, how's that bladder control problem? "

He never did let me live_ that_ one down.

_#4.) Never ask him about his opinion on any new, adored teen star. Or, a failing teen star. _

"Its Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday." I stared at the screen. One of my best friends, Utau, had sent me an email with the subject of, REBECCA BLACK, and then there I was. Face to face with the most annoying sound I had ever heard in my life, right next to Ikuto's voice, of course.

"Hey Ikuto," I had said the next day when I went to work, sort of curious. "What do you think of when you think of Rebecca Black?" He narrowed his eyes on me.

"A fucking rubber duck being choked by a three year old." I stared at him and nodded awkwardly.

"Thats ... nice to know..." But he wasn't going to stop there.

"I swear, if there is one person who would be more obnoxious than Justin Bieber, it would be her." He snarled. "I don't even know what her parents were thinking, maybe they didn't even know."

"Well, actually— " I started, attempting to cut through his speech, but obviously failed.

"You know what? If I was her father," Like any real sane woman would let you screw her. Oh wait. Seems as if I'm the only real sane woman left in the world. "I would have disowned that girl."

"Thats nice to k— "

"Didn't you hear how auto tuned her voice was?" He asked, but then continued before I could even say yes. "I swear, if you can't sound good with auto tune, and still manage to sound stupid, then your voice is some real shit right there. Not the good shit, but the bad shit."

Oh my god.

"In fact, I don't even know what else to say, but I know for sure that (yada yada yada yada)" Oh my god. "(Yada yada yada yada yada)"

Fuck this.

"SHUT UP, I'M GOING HOME."

x x x

A/n: AND, I THINK I'M DONE. :]  
>Don't like this? Slay me. e_e<p>

I think I might delete this story e.e

Out of utter embarrassment when I read it tomorrow in the morning, of course.

-.- Whatever.


End file.
